Put Your Hand in Mine
by xLight360x
Summary: Dystopian AU. Hawkeye Pierce wanted nothing but to be the best doctor. Medicine was his life. His love. His passion. But when the elections come, they bring with them a promise of darkness that may just be enough to turn the tides. H/M slowburn. No war concept. High T.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone, and welcome to my first M*A*S*H story. So this is likely one of the few M*A*S*H stories out there that takes place in an AU. This story begins in the year 2053, exactly one hundred years after the Korean War ended. In this story, the U.S. and the Soviet Union engaged in nuclear war, just as everyone feared during the Cold War. The devastation that followed was worldwide, and society as it was known fell. Over the next hundred years, a new society was developed in what we know as the United States- the Commonwealth. The Commonwealth placed strict laws on their people, dividing them into four sections known as the Quarters. These Quarters were based off of the four time zones of the former United States, and are each governed by the Commonwealth as a whole. The type of lavish living we ourselves can expect in 2053 is nonexistent here, with most families struggling to put food on the table at night. Each family receives a monthly ration of food, electricity, and money in the form of Federal Credits, the currency of the Commonwealth. These Credits can be used to buy anything, as long as the product resides within the Commonwealth and not another society, as each society has its own currency. On top of that, anyone with a job makes a monthly salary. As the story progresses you will learn more about the Commonwealth. I will say that some (not many) elements from The Hunger Games and Divergent have been implemented, but this is NOT a crossover. More like M*A*S*H soup with a touch of Hunger Games and Divergent. You should be able to pick out what's from where pretty easy, although being familiar with either fandom isn't required. Everything will be explained to you.**

 **I also wanted to mention that a few characters may end up being OOC at times, and I apologize for that. However, this is a different scenario from the world M*A*S*H is set in, so it's not completely unfathomable for something like that to happen. I'll do my best, but don't expect perfection.**

 **Disclaimer: M*A*S*H* is the property of 20th Century Fox. Anything else you recognize in here belongs to their respective owners. I own nothing except for the plot and any original characters.**

* * *

Two men sat at a bar in downtown Archmouth. One of them was tall and lean, but handsome nonetheless. His salt-and-pepper hair belied his youthfulness. A glass was gripped tightly in his hand, nearly emptied of its contents. The other was also tall, but more filled out than his accomplice. His dark brown hair was swept casually to the side, revealing a high forehead creased with laugh lines. He too held a glass in his hand, although this one happened to be full. For the past hour, the pair had been entertaining the other attendees with their banter.

The man with the black hair, known to the world as Hawkeye, was doubled over laughing. Through it, he managed to say,

"And the time when we stole Frank's tent and used it to start that fire!"

That line got the other man, BJ, laughing as well. "Boy, was he pissed when he found out!"

Hawkeye wiped his eyes. "So was the Micro Manager, when he found out."

"And then you made things worse by telling him that there was nothing to lose his head over. Or, in Frank's case, his tent."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that was good. Although my dad was pretty upset when he found out about it. Wouldn't let me talk to you for a week!"

"That's funny. All that time I thought it was something _I_ did!"

The two men laughed. Despite being the best of friends, they saw little of each other. Both of them were doctors. BJ owned his own practice, while Hawkeye worked in a hospital. BJ was a husband and a father, and spent most of his free time with his family. Hawkeye, on the other hand, shared a home with his father and was known throughout Archmouth as a womanizer. Tonight was the first night in a month that they'd had the opportunity to sit down and talk. From the way they were carrying on, it was clear that they had been missing each other's company.

Hawkeye lifted the glass to his lips and gulped down the remainder of his drink. Once finished, he slammed the glass down on the table.

"Another glass, Kolt."

The kid behind the bar gave the man a skeptical look. "You sure you got enough money?"

"Just put it on my tab."

"Sir, your tab's maxed out. I can't put anything more onto it until you pay off what's there."

"Then put the tab on my tab."

The young man searched for something to say until BJ raised his hand.

"I got this one." He slapped a bill for twenty Credits on the counter. "Get me another, while you're at it."

Shrugging, the man took the bill and refilled the glasses.

Hawkeye put his finger on the little umbrella in the glass, swirling it around absentmindedly. "It's been four glasses and I still can't get that damn election out of my head."

"Relax, Hawk," BJ said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Relax?" Hawkeye looked at his friend as if he had told him to jump off a cliff. "How can I relax, knowing what's coming?"

"The odds of your name being chosen are low, so take it easy, alright?"

He shook his head, his fingers going from swirling the umbrella to tapping on the counter. "Beej, the odds of my name getting chosen may be as low as the odds of you shaving off that dumb mustache of yours, but they still exist. And you know what getting chosen means."

BJ pretended to be hurt at his friend's insult. "My mustache is not dumb. It's a symbol of my growing as a man."

"No, it's a symbol of your lack of style." He gestured toward his own face. "Didn't you get the memo? Clean shaven is what the ladies want. Makes 'em weak in the knees."

"Well, _I_ just so happen to be happily married."

Hawkeye went to make a sharp comeback, only to stop when he saw the look in BJ's eyes. His mouth was half-open, his glass at his lips, almost as if he had become frozen in time.

Hawkeye pursed his lips. He knew exactly what his best friend was thinking. If he were to be chosen at the election tomorrow, he would lose everything. He would be forced to leave his family permanently, and start an entirely new one with whomever it was that he was carted off with.

Each year, an election was held to select a man and a woman between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five from each of the Quarters. Those two people would be required to marry regardless of their current marital status, and would be shipped off to a training facility to be prepped for their new jobs serving as government officials in the Commonwealth. According to the oh-so-knowledgeable government, the two chosen ones were required to marry because apparently "one could only fully and completely understand another through the process of holy matrimony". Since the two chosen ones would be living together and eventually working together, it was determined that they would need to understand each other beyond the capacity of normal friends.

If BJ were to be chosen tomorrow, he would not only be forced to give up his wife for another, but to give up his daughter and unborn son as well.

Reaching out, Hawkeye put his hand on BJ's arm. "Beej, how many times is your name in the ballot?"

He mumbled something incomprehensible in response.

"What?"

His head jerked to the side so that he was looking directly at Hawkeye. "Thirty-seven," he spat.

He nearly fell off his seat. _"Thirty-seven?"_

His friend nodded disdainfully. "I had to."

"But-but- Beej, you're a doctor!"

He hung his head. "And a failing one, at that."

"What are you talking about? You're a great doctor!"

"That's not the problem, Hawk. People just can't afford to go to the doctor for mundane things like vaccines and annual physicals these days. I barely get two clients a month."

He stared at his friend. He'd known for a while now that BJ had been getting fewer and fewer patients, but he had never guessed that it was _this_ bad. "You should have told me sooner. I could have helped."

"I'm not going to burden you with that, Hawkeye. You have your father to take care of."

"Yeah, and you have a wife and two kids to take care of!"

"Even if you were helping us, Hawkeye, my name would still be in there just as many times. We need all the help we can get. It took Peg nearly two hours of arguing with me to convince me to not put my name in the max number of times."

Hawkeye turned his face so that he was focusing on the counter. He studied a particularly fascinating crack in the wood as he milled over his response.

He wanted to tell BJ that it would be okay. That someone else would get their name drawn, and that he'd be able to carry on with his family for another year. See his son be born.

But he couldn't.

Most of the men and women of the 2nd Quarter had their names in at least ten times. Each candidate was required to have their name inserted into the ballot five times, but could opt for more, all the way up to a hundred. For each additional time they added their name after number five, their family would receive one hundred Credits and a week's worth of food and electricity. For someone who put their name in the maximum amount of times, their family would receive almost ten thousand Credits and 665 days' worth of food and electricity. If that person didn't get chosen, it was a great payoff. But the problem was that the more times someone put their name in the ballot, the more likely they were to be chosen. For someone like Hawkeye, who only had his name in ten times, it wasn't as much of a concern. But someone like BJ, who had their name in thirty-seven times? It was time to worry.

BJ's voice cut through Hawkeye's thoughts. "Once the Commonwealth gives us the Credits they owe me for the number of times my name is in the ballot, we'll finally be able to buy that car Peg's been dying for for ages." His voice was sentimental. _Too_ sentimental.

Hawkeye's hands tightened around his glass. "How many times is Peg's name in?"

"Five," he answered. "No matter how hard she tried, I wouldn't let her put it in more than that."

"I'm surprised she didn't shave off your mustache for that."

He rolled his eyes. "Again with the mustache!"

He smirked. "You know it sucks, BJ. Do me a favor if I get chosen- shave it off."

His jaw began to shift in the way it did when he was thinking. Finally, a mischievous smile curled his lips.

"I'll promise you that, if you promise me you'll shave your head if I get chosen."

Hawkeye grinned. "Deal."

BJ lifted his glass. "To friends?"

"To friends."

Two hours and four glasses later, and they were gone. A relatively sloppy but genuine goodbye hug was shared between the two, and then they were off. Hawkeye himself didn't live far from the local bar, which was both a good and a bad thing. As he approached his home, he saw that the living room light was on.

 _Dad must be home,_ he thought, stumbling up the porch steps. His dad always worked the night shift, except for two days of the year. The first was Christmas, and the second was the day before the election. Despite the fact that Daniel Pierce was twenty years out of the running, he still claimed to feel just as apprehensive as any candidate would. Daniel loved his son dearly, and the thought of losing him to the election was too much for him to handle. After all, he'd been without Hawkeye's mother for fifteen years. If Hawkeye were to leave, he'd be all alone.

Once inside, Hawkeye saw his father sitting in his chair, reading his copy of The Last of the Mohicans. Despite the book being older than the Commonwealth itself, Daniel loved it, so much so that he referred to his son by the name of a character from the book. As soon as Daniel saw his son, he slammed the book shut and half-raced, half-hobbled over to greet him.

"Hawkeye." His father's eyes lit up with a joy that matched his smile. He clapped his son on the shoulder. "Welcome home, son."

The doctor gave his dad a tired smile. "You should be in bed," he slurred, his concern for his father shining through his usual laid-back demeanor.

"Nonsense," the senior Pierce said. "The election is tomorrow. I'm not about to go to bed without sharing what could be my last time with my son."

"Don't talk like that, Dad. Please."

Daniel looked into his son's eyes for a moment before looking away and nodding. "Yeah, yeah." He gestured toward the living room. "Come sit for a while, Hawkeye. We haven't had a chance to talk in almost four days."

Hawkeye nodded. Lumbering into the living room, he slipped into the first seat he could find. Daniel pulled up a chair and sat across from him.

"How are you coping, son?"

He lifted his legs up onto the coffee table and sighed. He folded arms over his chest and tipped his head back, trying to think through the cloud of alcohol that was consuming his brain.

As the seconds began to turn into minutes, Daniel noticed a growing expression of worry working its way into Hawkeye's face. He studied his son closely, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Usually, Hawkeye was a bubbly, booming individual who hid his discomfort behind jokes and obscene comments. Whenever his worry actually showed, Daniel knew that something must be wrong.

"Hawkeye, what's wrong? You didn't lose a patient, did you?"

"No, no." Hawkeye sat forward, putting his face into his hands. He ran his hands through his jet-black hair, eyebrows raising with the motion. He then rubbed his hands together and started bouncing his knees, a motion he always did when something was wrong. It was the only way Daniel had ever been able to tell if something was truly wrong when Hawkeye was a child.

"Ben," he prompted. "Tell me."

If the use of Hawkeye's real name surprised him, he didn't show it. Rather, he looked straight at his father. The elder Pierce noticed for the first time just how tired his son looked. He had noticed the redness of his eyes and the darkness beneath them, of course, but had at first attributed them to drunkenness. It wasn't until he saw the dim light in his son's normally brilliant blue eyes that he realized just how much everything had taken out of him.

"After I finished at the hospital..." he began. His words were fuzzy. "I ran into BJ on the street. He asked me to get a drink with him. I cracked a joke about him asking me out, but it didn't hit. I, uh, assumed... at the time that... he was just in a mood or something." He paused.

Daniel lifted one leg over another. He didn't take his eyes off of Hawkeye for a second, which was his silent encouragement to continue.

"We drank. We laughed. I think... I think we both wanted to get the election out of our minds, you know? It wasn't really workin'. For me, at least. I was just ordering another drink when... when something happened."

Daniel nodded slowly. Most people would push him to continue, but not him. He knew that with Hawkeye, silence was often the best response.

"I made a joke about BJ's mustache, and then he brought up his family. He... he told me that his name was in the ballot thirty-seven times."

At that, Daniel's eyebrows shot up. He had known people during his youth who had put their name in more times than that, but to hear of BJ Hunnicutt doing such a thing was surprising. Normally, people who put their names in a bunch of times were usually either extremely poor or alone. Sure, most people had their names in more than five times, but to see someone - especially a family man - put their name in more than twenty times was astounding.

Daniel could see that, even through the drunkenness, Hawkeye was having a tough time dealing with this recent revelation of his friend's. Hawkeye and BJ had met in their freshman year of high school. They were such opposites, it was hard for Daniel to believe that they had become such great friends. BJ was Class President, captain of the baseball team, a nearly straight-A student, and had received the Student of the Year award in the eighth grade. Hawkeye, on the other hand, was smart, but a troublemaker. In the first week of high school alone, he had gone to the principal twice. Once for pulling the pants of a senior down, and another for starting a food fight in the cafeteria. He sucked at sports, was a womanizer, and was generally disliked by his teachers.

BJ and Hawkeye met when Hawkeye was planning an elaborate prank against his P.E. teacher that involved hanging a basket over the door on the inside of the teacher's office. The basket was full of jelly, and was tied to a rope that was pinned in the closed door. As soon as the teacher opened the door, the jelly would dump on his head. Despite BJ's overall passive personality, he quickly took up Hawkeye's prank. The two became fast friends when they realized that they shared a great sense of humor, and were nearly inseparable from that moment on. They finished high school together, lived together in college, and even worked together for a short time before Hawkeye had been offered a position in Archmouth General. As such, it was no surprise to Daniel that Hawkeye was taking this news of BJ's very hard.

Dr. Pierce reached out and laid a hand on his son's arm. "It'll be okay, Hawkeye. You just wait and see. There are going to be lots of names in tomorrow's ballot. Chances are neither you nor BJ will get chosen, and then you can carry on with your lives. Right?"

The surgeon hung his head. "But what if it happens, Dad? I don't have any other friends in... in Archmouth."

Daniel pursed his lips. "You can't think like that, Hawkeye. You have to be optimistic. Even if he gets chosen, at least you knew him. Right? And he'll come home again. Once he became a leader, I'm sure he'd visit you and his old family all the time."

At the mention of the Hunnicutt family, Hawkeye paled. Daniel realized with a jolt that bringing up BJ's family was probably not the smartest thing he'd ever done. Mentally, he slapped himself. Normally, he was good at talking to his son and working out his problems.

 _It's just the election,_ he assured himself. _You're just tense because you're not sure whether or not Hawkeye is actually safe._

The younger of the two Pierces sighed. "I need to go to bed."

Despite Daniel's wish for him and Hawkeye to share one last night together, he understood his son's desire. "All right. I changed your bedding, vacuumed, and washed the window today. I also washed your dress shirt and pants and polished your shoes for tomorrow. The bulb in your lamp has also been replaced."

At that, Hawkeye cracked a bit of a smile. "Does that come with a complimentary breakfast, as well?"

Daniel chuckled. "I'll see what our chef can cook up."

"Great." Hawkeye stood up. Kissing his father on the cheek, he said, "Be sure to tell him I like my eggs over-easy, my sausage in links, and my bacon extra crispy."

"I think he can handle that. Good night, son."

"Good night, Dad. I love you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oOoOoOoOoOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Hawkeye's dreams were plagued with nightmares. One in particular seemed to like to repeat itself, a truth that was unfortunate for Hawkeye as this one was his worst.

He saw himself standing in the middle of an endless wheat field. At first, he was happy. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and the day was perfect. His surroundings were so peaceful, and he was alone. No Commonwealth breathing down his back. No friends to deliver bad news. No election looming over the horizon.

However, things quickly began to change. A noise behind him made Hawkeye turn around, only to be greeted with a horrific sight.

There, on the ground, was Peg Hunnicutt. She was wearing a wedding dress, except it was far from being what someone would expect to see in a ceremony. The fabric, once fine and elegant, was now torn and bloody. Lines of dirt snaked up and down the white garment. Her shoes, once a beautiful pink hue, were spotted in blood. The heels were snapped off of them. Much to Hawkeye's horror, he saw that they were in Peg's hands, and had been turned into deadly-looking spikes.

Peg herself was just as bad. Blood covered her face in patches. Some dry, some fresh. What would have been a beautiful head of hair was sticky with blood and grime. Her palms were dripping blood onto the ground as a result of her nails, pointed and sharp, digging into them like razor wire. Her eyes were pleading as she looked up at Hawkeye. He tried to go to her, but found that his feet were rooted to the ground. Peg opened her mouth, only for blood to pour out like a waterfall. Her hands released the spikes that were once a part of her heels. She lunged forward, fingers clawing madly at the ground. She started dragging herself toward Hawkeye, an awful gurgling sound coming from her still-open mouth. Hawkeye tried to scream. Tried to talk. Tried to make any sort of noise.

But he couldn't. His mouth was bone-dry, his lips numb. He stared at the thing, no- Peg, as she came toward him. Her body was slowly morphing as she inched closer and closer. Her skin became black and scaly, and her fingers turned into talons. The blood stopped pouring from her mouth, only to be replaced with a scream that was truly inhuman. Her ears became pointy and leathery, and her hair fell to be replaced with a head of feathers. Her eyes shrank back into her blackening skull, turning black themselves.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hawkeye saw something move. Able to move himself for the first time so far, he jerked his head toward the motion. His breath caught in his throat when he saw who it was.

BJ was standing beside him, dressed in a grey jumpsuit and cap. His face was slack and emotionless. Turning his head at a painstakingly slow pace, he gestured toward the writhing creature that was his wife.

"You could have stopped this."

The iciness of BJ's words dealt a blow to Hawkeye that sent the world spinning. A hard rock forced its way into his throat, threatening to choke him. He gasped, falling to his knees. A sharp pain slammed into his gut, making him hunch over in pain. Tears began dripping from his eyes as he realized what was happening.

Through the tears, he stole another glance at Peg. The sight of her was almost enough to make him deposit the contents of his alcohol binge on the earth of this nightmare.

Peg was no longer the monster she had been mere moments before. Now, she was nothing but a skeleton. Burned and blackened. Eye sockets empty, yet bleeding. Lying in a pool of blood that was unmistakably her own. The skeleton was curled up in the fetal position, hands wrapped around what were once the knees of a wonderful woman.

Once again, movement caught Hawkeye's attention. This time, Erin was standing beside her father. And... a boy.

Their son.

Together, the three moved over to the skeleton. Their movements were in sync. They reminded Hawkeye of ghosts. The way their feet seemed to skim over the ground. The lack of emotion in their faces. The darkness of their eyes. The paleness of their skin.

They crouched around Peg, all of them reaching out to rest a hand on her. BJ over where her heart had once been, Erin on her shoulder, and the boy on her stomach. Hawkeye stayed perfectly still, completely in the dark about what was going to happen next.

If only it had stayed that way.

The only sound in the air was the sharp intake of breath as BJ, Erin, and the boy looked up. The hatred in their eyes was unmistakable. Their face muscles tightened in anger, and their lips became thin lines.

 _You could have stopped this._

And that was the last thing he thought before hands wrapped themselves around his throat, and the world went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oOoOoOoOoOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hawkeye? Are you alright? Hawkeye? Hawkeye!"

Hawkeye jerked out of his daze. He'd been thinking about his nightmare the night before, which in turn had led to him missing what Nurse Kingston had said to him.

"What?" he asked stupidly.

She sighed. "I asked if you were ready."

He raised his eyebrows. "Honey, I'm _always_ ready. My place or yours?"

She rolled her eyes.

"What's the matter?" he asked, leaning against the wash station. "I've been told I do a good job. I'll even use some cologne. What do you prefer? Gugardi, or Aloha? I personally prefer the Aloha. It has a nice breezy feel to it that makes women go crazy."

"Hawkeye!" she snapped, growing impatient with his flirting. "There's a patient waiting for you in O.R.! An emergency."

"Tell him to make an appointment and come back."

She took a deep breath, clearly trying to curb her anger. "Dr. Pierce. Please."

He sighed. "Okay, okay. I'll be there in five. Be ready. I want him sedated by the time I walk through that door."

Relieved that he seemed to be through flirting, the nurse nodded and streaked out of the room.

As Hawkeye washed and pulled on his clothes for surgery, he began thinking once again of BJ. Since he was little, he had used humor to cover up his distress. After his mom had died, he'd started joking around a lot with his dad to cover up the fact that he was not okay. When his pet cat had run out into the road and was struck by an oncoming van, he covered it up by joking about the irony of the van belonging to a mobile veterinarian. And now, when his friend was on the brink of losing everything he cared about, he covered it up by flirting.

Despite the fact that the clock was ticking past five minutes, he kept at a slow pace. The thought of going into O.R. and doing surgery was enough to bring back memories of the previous night's nightmares. Peg's blood. Her family's hatred. BJ's words. All of those things would be swarming in his brain, pushing out whatever else tried to get in.

However, he knew that he had to go through with it. A patient was depending on him to save their life. So, he pulled on his gloves and walked out, careful not to touch anything with his hands.

It was a short walk to O.R. Inside, Nurse Kingston and a second nurse were waiting. As usual, Nurse Kingston's eyes reflected her frustration, and her foot was tapping impatiently. Normally, Hawkeye would have laughed, if not for the fact that her anger reminded him all too much of the anger he had been shown the previous night.

As the second nurse tied his gown, Nurse Kingston set herself up to hand him the tools as he needed them. Despite the many years that had passed since the founding of the Commonwealth, not many advances had been made in surgery. Many other advances in medicine, including things like tumor-dissolving pills and a cure for Alzheimer's disease, had been made, but not many in surgery. Hawkeye figured that the Commonwealth was more interested in preventing diseases than saving lives from things that couldn't be stopped, like car accidents and fires.

Speaking of accidents, this man had been involved in a pretty serious one. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. According to Nurse Kingston, he was a bus driver for the Archmouth school district. He had been driving out to get his first student when a dog had jumped out in front of him. Naturally, he had swerved to avoid it- and ended up having a chance meeting with a tree. Thankfully, the man had been wearing a seatbelt. Otherwise, he would have been launched straight out of the front, and likely killed. However, he hadn't been as lucky as one might have thought. The impact of the crash had shattered the windshield. Several shards of glass had flown and impaled the man right in the shoulder.

Hawkeye tried to work quickly, knowing that the sooner he finished, the sooner he'd be able to leave and go home. He would be home by now, of course, if not for this emergency. However, he couldn't blame the man. Hawkeye would have done the same thing if he were in his place.

He tried his hardest to ignore the blood, but it was hard. Vivid memories of Peg's bleeding, broken body kept flooding his mind, causing his orders to get sharper and his entire body to break out in sweat.

As the minutes continued to tick by, Hawkeye got more and more tense. He began gripping the surgical tools like they were his lifeline, causing his hands to shake. His forehead was beaded with sweat as he tried to focus on getting that last piece of glass out of the man's shoulder.

"Doctor?" the nurse beside him asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," he said. "Just towel me. Please."

Grabbing the towel on the rack, Nurse Kingston dabbed his forehead, soaking up some of the sweat that was threatening to overwhelm him. He chuckled softly to himself as he thought about being the first person in history to drown in their own sweat.

"Thanks," he mumbled. At first, he wasn't sure if she heard him, until he saw the small nod she gave him. Her eyes were fixed on the patient, tracking every one of Hawkeye's moves. Normally, this would not have bothered the man. He would have made some sort of flirtatious comment about her fascination with his hands. However, today, he was having none of it.

"Can you stop watching me like that?" he snapped. She jerked her head up in surprise, while the second nurse just looked at him.

Hawkeye's work began to go faster. "You're making me uncomfortable."

Nurse Kingston went to say something, only to stop. She looked away quickly, which told Hawkeye that she was either really upset or really pissed off. Honestly, he hoped for the latter. An argument was just what he needed to get rid of this... this anger of his.

However, it didn't come. Nurse Kingston didn't look at him again for the remainder of the surgery. She gave him and took from him tools as he needed, but did nothing for or against him other than that. As Hawkeye closed and announced that he was done, he felt a wave of disappointment. For the first time in all of his career at Archmouth General, he had actually wanted to get into a fight with Nurse Kingston.

Was he really _that_ upset as to want something like that?

As the two nurses worked on getting the man to his room, Hawkeye stripped down to his doctor's uniform. He felt a wave of relief as he discarded the bloody surgical garments and washed his hands. He watched with an odd fascination as the water in the sink turned a light red hue before swirling down the drain.

He was so mesmerized by this that he lost track of time, and, before he knew it, the water shut itself off. As part of the town's conservation plan, Archmouth General's sinks were programmed to shut off after two minutes. All of them except for the wash stations, that is. For people who liked their hands extra clean, it was an annoyance. However, today it was more than that for Hawkeye.

He wasn't exactly sure what happened next, only that the next thing he remembered was sitting in the passenger seat of his dad's car. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there, but vaguely remembered making a call from the front desk. Probably to his dad, asking him to come and pick him up. Judging by the look on Daniel's face, he guessed that his assumption was right.

Daniel Pierce sighed. "I wish you would consider talking about it, son. It might make you feel better."

At first, Hawkeye didn't know what he was talking about. Then, he remembered BJ. "I already talked about it. Last night." His tone was defensive.

His father's grip on the steering wheel tightened a little. He hated it when his son got like this. "Hawkeye, I'm your father. You can talk to me. Nothing that is said in here will leave here. I just want to help you."

"I'm fine, okay?" he snapped. Truth be told, he wasn't. However, he wasn't about to let his father know that. If he said something, he'd be forced to talk about his nightmares. And although Daniel was a kind and understanding man, Hawkeye wasn't sure if he'd fully be able to understand the depth to which the nightmare had gone. It had strayed into all-too real territory for Hawkeye. The very thought of that was enough to make his palms sweat.

Although Daniel could tell that his son was lying, he didn't push him any further. He could tell that things were tense with Hawkeye. If there was one thing he knew, it was never to bother his son when he was tense.

As soon as Daniel pulled the car into the driveway, Hawkeye was gone. He raced up to his room at breakneck pace, finding his dress attire right where he'd left it. His clothes, as his father had stated the previous night, were clean. For that, he was grateful.

Without so much as a moment's hesitation, he shed his doctor's uniform. Never in his life had he felt so grateful to be in a dress uniform. His eyes rolled back in pleasure as he felt the cool fabric against his skin. A rather strange-looking grin spread across his face as he pulled on his socks and shoes.

He was just finishing tying the laces when movement outside his window caught his eye. Turning, he saw a mother and her boy walking down the street. The mother looked rather distressed, while the boy looked about as happy as could be. He clung on to his mother's hand with both of his own, his body as close to hers as it could be.

Hawkeye found himself moving over to the window in an almost dreamlike way. He pressed a hand against the window pane, looking wistfully down at the pair.

The woman scooped the child up into her arms. He began giggling gaily as his mother kissed his cheek. She gave him a big smile, but the absence of light in her eyes betrayed her real emotions. She was scared. Just like everyone else.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Hawkeye found himself backing away from the window.

Why was it now that he was noticing just how traumatizing the elections were for most people? He'd been in the running for this thing for eight years now, and yet he'd never noticed. Sure, BJ had expressed his concerns about leaving his family, but for some reason it had never hit the way it had this year. Never before had it brought on this level of emotion. So what had happened to change everything?

Hawkeye found himself walking down the stairs and outside. When he was little, being outside seemed to be the thing that calmed him down the most. Rubbing his face with the heels of his hands, he started walking down the sidewalk, hoping the fresh air would clear his head a little. There was no way he could go to the elections like this.

When Hawkeye was still in school, his sophomore history teacher had done a unit on the elections and the leadership training it led to. According to his lectures, the Commonwealth had started the elections forty years after their founding. They had been searching for a way to better ensure that the next generation of leaders would be the right ones. They wanted the next Commonwealth leaders to be regular citizens, experienced with the regular Commonwealth life. They believed that only those people could truly know what was best for the public, and how to make life in the Commonwealth as good as possible. However, they also wanted to ensure that the next leaders were properly trained. They had to be knowledgeable in politics, as well as the four core subjects of math, science, history, and English. The smartest people made the best leaders, according to the Commonwealth. So, they came up with the idea of the elections. The elections would allow them the freedom to select two regular citizens - at random - while still offering them the ability to educate them in the ways of a Commonwealth leader.

The actual training part took a lot more planning. It took the leaders two additional years to come up with what was considered the first official method of training new leaders. Over the next three and a half decades, the leaders that were elected and went through the training made changes to the method in order to fix the issues they had noticed. In the present day, the methods used to train new leaders were very complex- and very secretive. The majority of the training process was kept a secret from the public. Leaders who told of their experiences and were caught could face the death penalty. Why the process was kept a secret was a mystery, but many were suspicious of it.

Including Hawkeye.

Part of him wanted to get chosen. To be able to go to Khuizherton City and take part in the training program. He wanted to uncover the secrets behind it. Find out just what about it made the leaders so nervous about it becoming public knowledge. Was it just because they didn't want to allow candidates the opportunity to study and prepare? Or was there something more to it. Hawkeye wasn't sure.

But he wanted to find out.

He was so lost in thought that he ran straight into the woman with the boy. She cried out in surprise as she stumbled. The joyous look on her son's face melted away, to be replaced with a look of surprise.

Quickly, Hawkeye reached out to grab the woman. Grabbing her shoulder, he helped steady her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she said. Her face was flushed.

"Listen, I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Her eyes darted to her shoes, and then back to him. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. I almost knocked you over."

"Well, you didn't, so it's fine. Really." She was talking fast.

Picking up on this, he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? Why would anything be wrong? I'm fine, sir. I'm fine. I'm fine. Just fine." Turning, she started walking away. She stopped after a few steps, looking over her shoulder. She started to raise her hand, but thought otherwise and hurried away.

Hawkeye watched her go, feeling rather confused. One moment he was bumping into her, the next she was all flushed and walking away. It wasn't like she was the one at fault, so what exactly was her problem?

Shrugging it off as mere nerves, Hawkeye turned around to go back home. He hadn't realized up until that point that he had forgotten to put on his tie. As he neared his home, he saw his father outside. Daniel Pierce was wearing his finest suit, busying himself with vacuuming the floor of his car. Unlike most families in Archmouth, the Pierces had always been well-off financially. Daniel had spent the longest time running his own practice- one he had greatly profited from back before the recession of 2048 had hit. It was a wonder he had been able to stay in business after that. Regardless, he still had the money to own a car, even if it was a twelve year old junker that got about eight miles to the gallon and broke down every twenty.

Much to his relief, Hawkeye was able to pass his father by without notice. He had a feeling that his father was going to try and pry something from him the next time they talked. Although Daniel never asked much from Hawkeye, there wasn't a time he could recall when his father had let him go about all depressed and withdrawn.

Once upstairs, Hawkeye dug through the laundry, eventually producing a jet black tie. As he fastened it around his neck, he studied himself in the mirror on his dresser. His eyes were dark underneath and his face was pale. Two things to remind him of the ordeal he had gone through the previous night. Trying to push the image of the bleeding, distressed Peg from his mind, he focused on tidying himself up. There had been no time for a shower upon his arrival home, so he had resorted to slicking his hair back with enough gel to make it look presentable. He took a comb to it now, helping to smooth down some of the loose bits. He straightened his jacket with his hands before grabbing at his tie, trying to loosen it a bit. He wasn't about to choke through an hour-long ceremony.

Just as he was about to leave, a knock came to the door.

"Come in."

The door creaked open, and Daniel Pierce stepped inside. His face was solemn as he looked at his son. "Are you ready? The elections start soon, and I want to be sure we aren't stuck all the way in the back." A pause, then, "I don't want you to have to walk miles to get up to the stage, should you be chosen."

Hawkeye bit at the inside of his cheek. It was a count of three before he responded. "Yeah. I'm ready."

Daniel nodded, his mouth becoming a thin line. He stepped away from the door, gesturing for Hawkeye to take the lead.

He shook his head. "Oh, no. You go."

The elder Pierce gave him a stern look. "Hawkeye."

He sighed. "Fine, fine."

He stepped out the door.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Updates will be slow. I take my time when writing, as I want to make sure every chapter is the best it can be.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi all, and welcome back to Put Your Hand in Mine. Thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed so far. It really makes my day.**

* * *

Hawkeye rocked back and forth on his heels. It had only been ten minutes since his arrival, and he was already sweating. His father had managed to get him a seat at the very front of the courtyard, directly in front of the stage.

At that moment, two women were standing on said stage. One was an official from Khuizherton City; the one responsible for revealing the names that had been chosen. Rather than making one big announcement on live television regarding the two people from 2nd Quarter that had been chosen, the people in charge had decided that an official should go around to each town and city and make the announcement there. It was likely one of the stupidest decisions the government had made.

The other woman was the mayor of Archmouth, Stacy Morris. She looked rather distressed, which was unsurprising. Ever since she became the mayor of Archmouth twelve years ago, she had been obsessed with impressing the government. Whenever the elections came up, she saw an opportunity to show the government just how good the people of Archmouth had it with her as their leader. But, of course, anyone could just look at the statistical data of Archmouth over the past ten years and see that was indeed not true.

Hawkeye tried to ignore the people around him as they pushed and shoved, trying to get the best spots possible. It was obvious to the residents of Archmouth that whoever ended up in the back would have it rough if they were chosen. Although Archmouth was not a large town by any means, the population was still great enough to extend the crowd back pretty far. Having to walk through the entire crowd, with all eyes on them, would not be an easy thing.

After what felt like an eternity, the mayor of Archmouth stepped up to the microphone.

"Hello, residents of Archmouth, and welcome to the annual election ceremony! We are joined today by Ms. Kelly Oyheidn, an official from Khuizherton City. She will be the one to announce the two 2nd Quarter residents that have the honor of calling themselves this year's candidates!"

She began to applaud enthusiastically, clearly expecting a response from the crowd. When she got none, she cleared her throat and stepped back. Ms. Oyheidn stepped forward to take her place. The scowl on her face was enough to make Hawkeye instantly dislike her.

"Good evening, Archmouth," she began. Her voice was tight but raspy. "I have been given the distinct honor of announcing this year's 2nd Quarter candidates." She pulled an envelope out of her jacket and showed it to the crowd. "In this envelope, the names of the two candidates wait to be revealed."

Hawkeye's teeth clamped down on the tip of his tongue. He winced from the pain, but did not release his jaw. It helped to have a channel for the worry that was gnawing at his belly.

She ripped open the envelope.

Everyone caught their breath.

She unfolded a piece of paper and scanned it, a smile crossing her face. Not good.

"Ladies first," she said.

Hawkeye's nails bit into his palms. Just once he wished that the gentlemen could be first. He just wanted this over with.

He found his eyes drifting across the crowd and coming to rest on Peg. She and her family were standing several rows to his right. Peg's face was pale as paper, BJ's arms wrapped tightly around her. Hawkeye prayed for the best but expected the worst.

"Margaret Houlihan."

Hawkeye let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the female candidate was announced. Surprisingly, she was from Archmouth. Usually, the candidates were drawn from the towns and cities with much larger populations. Hawkeye felt relief swamp him as realized the reason for the woman's joy as she read the piece of paper. She was pleased because the female candidate just so happened to be in Archmouth. That meant that Hawkeye - and the other gentlemen of Archmouth - were safe. It had been years since both the male and female candidates had come from the same town.

Immediately, Hawkeye let his thoughts wander. He found himself snickering as he thought about Donald Penobscott, the snotty soldier that was engaged to Margaret. How fitting it was that they were going to have to cancel their ceremony. Hawkeye wondered who the unlucky man charged with marrying Margaret would be. Whoever he was, Hawkeye felt a pang of sympathy for him. Margaret was a sharp-tongued, no-nonsense person; the exact opposite of Hawkeye. He could just barely see her through the mob of people. She was holding on tight to the hands of her husband-to-be, looking extremely distressed. He kissed her cheek before stepping back, allowing the soldiers to usher him back into the crowd. With obvious reluctance, Margaret stepped up onto the stage.

Ms. Oyheidn put her hand on Margaret's shoulder. "Well! It's been quite some time since a candidate rose from the dwellings of this tiny town. How do you feel, Ms. Houlihan?" She held the microphone up to her mouth.

"I, um, well..." She lapsed into silence. Ms. Oyheidn pursed her lips before taking the microphone away.

"The quiet type, I see," she chuckled. "Well then, allow me to announce the name of your new fiancee, darling." She cleared her throat and lifted the paper up to her line of sight.

Hawkeye looked in BJ's general direction. He was hugging his wife tightly, tears streaming down his face. His little daughter laughed gaily, while Peg hung on to them all. A wide grin had plastered itself across her face- the greatest sight of all. She'd get to go through another year with her family. Have her son without having to raise him with another man. That would have been the worst punishment of all.

He managed to meet BJ's eyes from across the crowd. His old friend's eyes danced with a glorious light, his white teeth flashing against his pale complexion. He then moved from Peg to Erin, scooping her up into his arms. She wrapped her own tiny little ones around his neck, burying her face in his chest. Hawkeye laughed, finally letting go of the worry that had been consuming him for so long.

"Benjamin Franklin Pierce."

Hawkeye jumped as he heard his full name spoken. His head whipped around, looking for the person who had called it out. He was just about to call out to the person when someone gave him a shove.

"Get up there!"

Hawkeye looked at the man for a moment, confused. Then, realization dawned on him.

His name had come from somewhere up on stage. Spoken through a microphone. Through the lips of a woman who called herself Ms. Oyheidn. She had _said his name,_ and now he was expected to go up there and stand next to her and that- that _mongrel_.

He shook his head, horrified. "No. No, no, no, no. There must be some mistake. I-"

He was abruptly cut off as two men in white came forward and grabbed him. Soldiers.

Yelping, the doctor struggled to free himself from their grip. He kicked and screamed as they dragged him up to the stage.

"No, dammit! No, no! Let me _go!_ This is all a mistake! Let. Me. Go!"

The soldiers held him in place on the stage. Despite their continuously-tightening grips, Hawkeye continued to struggle. As he fought, Ms. Oyheidn laughed nervously and spoke into the mic.

"And there we have it! The candidates for this year's election! Can I get a round of applause for your future leaders?"

A soft, hesitant round of applause rose up from the crowd. Everyone exchanged looks of uncertainty, as if they couldn't believe that _both_ 2nd Quarter candidates had come from the same town.

Through his haze of anger, Hawkeye spotted his father. Daniel Pierce looked at his son with a mixture of pity and sadness. Desperate, the junior Pierce called out to him.

"Dad! Dad, please! Tell these guys to lay off! Tell them that this was a mistake! That Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce is a surgeon, not a world leader! Tell them-"

He was cut off as a rifle slammed into the back of his head, knocking him out.

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A cool cloth was the first sensation Hawkeye felt. The world came to in a storm of dizzying blackness. He groaned, his eyes refusing to open. His other senses began to swim into focus ahead of his sight, giving him the information he needed.

He was lying on some sort of couch or bed, his head against a pillow. The coolness of the cloth against his forehead sank into him, providing his aching head relief. The taste of metal hung in his mouth like a cloud, threatening to choke him. He coughed against it, the noise ending in a rather unattractive sputtering sound. A strong ringing presented itself in his ears, bringing forth the thought of a possible concussion. That thought was immediately repressed, however, by a sudden wave of sleepiness. His jaws wrenched themselves open in a yawn. His mouth was beginning to close when he felt the edge of a glass against his lips, some kind of liquid trickling past.

He coughed, his body not liking the sudden intrusion. The liquid tried again, this time successfully making it past. The liquid was warm and bubbly, and sent his stomach spiraling into waves of euphoria as it entered. He let out a sigh, the liquid being enough to push him back into the confines of unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oOoOoOoOoOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawkeye sat bolt upright, nearly whacking his head on the ceiling above. He looked around wildly, only to realize that he was no longer in the dream world. He fell back on to the bed, sighing.

He had dreamed of standing on that cursed stage. His hands were bound and he was gagged. All around him, his friends and family stood laughing and pointing at him and a bound and gagged woman beside him. She cast him a look of scorn, and he realized who it was. He watched in horror as Margaret Houlihan was suddenly dragged to center stage by a soldier. He put his pistol to the back of her head and lowered the hammer. Hawkeye tried to reach her, only to be grabbed and forced into the same position by another soldier. The barrel of some kind of gun pressed against his temple, and he braced himself.

The shots sounded, and he woke.

Now, he was laying still on the bed, still breathing heavy. It was beginning to dawn on him that he wasn't home. This was some foreign place. Somebody else's bedroom. Someone else's home. He didn't belong here. He slid off the bed and stumbled for the door. He had to get out.

His hand closed around the brass doorknob and turned. His eyes widened when the rounded object refused to budge. He began yanking on it, grunting with the effort. Surely he wasn't locked in there? What person would be low enough to do that?

"It's no use. We're stuck in here until _they_ decide otherwise."

He whirled around. Through the darkness of the room, he could just barely make out a figure sitting in a chair. No regular person would be able to identify them purely by sight, but he knew that voice.

"Margaret."

"Hawkeye." Her voice was crisp and orderly, as it had always been. Even from the other side of the room, Hawkeye could feel her inflated sense of authority.

The chair creaked as she stood up. "We've been in here for two days now. Kept track of the meals they were serving us. When I asked the soldier why, he said that it was because it had been determined that you were "unfit to represent".

"Unfit to represent?" he echoed. "What the hell does that mean? Who am I representing?"

He could feel her irritation. "The 2nd Quarter. They can't deliver an unconscious man with a lump on his head and a chip on his shoulder to the capital."

He snorted. "Locking me up in a room can only fix two of those things. Unless, of course, the government has difficulty counting, which is a complete possibility."

"According to them, it will. Their philosophy is that, by locking you and I in a room for three days, we'll somehow become more accustomed to our new life."

He slid against the wall and down into a seated position. "Well, duh. Don't you know that locking me in O.R. is how they got me accustomed to being a surgeon?"

"This isn't the time for jokes, Dr. Pierce."

He rubbed the back of his head, wincing as his fingers passed over the lump. "I came to at some point. Someone gave me something bubbly and warm. Who was it?" He wanted to know if his father had visited him. Or perhaps one of his hospital acquaintances. Maybe even BJ.

"The only other person who's been in here, besides the solider that delivers the supplies."

He felt immense disappointment descend upon him. "You, then."

"Don't sound so unappreciative, Dr. Pierce. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have recovered so quickly. You had a nasty concussion. That stuff I gave you was Apenaful."

"Cures concussions. Developed about twenty years ago by a neurologist from the 1st Quarter."

"It was mixed with powdered Liralad, which gave it the carbonated feeling."

"A sedative. Why?"

Her shadowy outline shrugged. "Why do you think? You created quite the commotion back at the elections."

"Right, because protesting being ripped away from your family and your lifestyle is inexcusable. Oh, how dare I!"

"You're not the only one who's suffering, doctor. Donald and I were going to be married in a week."

"I never said I was. I had a right to protest, Margaret."

"Not in their eyes."

"Since when have I ever given a damn about what they think?"

"Since they slammed a rifle in the back of your head."

He set his jaw. "They don't have a right," he hissed. "They can't just march into someone's life and rip it apart. They can't force someone to become a leader if they don't want to. I was perfectly fine in the hospital. I'm a surgeon. I've never been anything less or more."

She was quiet for a while. During that time, he stood. He began pacing restlessly, throwing his arms around and mumbling to himself. He could feel her stare. He knew she was watching him; judging him. He really didn't care. It wasn't like her opinion mattered much to him anyway.

"Sometimes you just have to learn to live with it."

He stopped. Her voice was tight again, no longer betraying any of her innermost thoughts and emotions. He could hear the creaking of a floorboard as she moved. He tensed, no longer able to see her in the darkness. He stayed silent until he heard the movement of a chair, signaling that she was seated once more.

He tried to think of an appropriate response. He had learned long ago that it wasn't worth it to stake a fight with Margaret Houlihan. She had a tongue sharper than a snake's tooth and a temper to back it up. She was a NICU nurse at Archmouth General, a job that was one of the toughest and most depressing of them all. Her efficiency and quick-mindedness had saved many lives, but it still made her hard to deal with.

And yet here he was, tasked with taking her as his wife.

Goody goody.

He wasn't sure when or for how long, but he dozed off. Fortunately, his subconscious chose to spare him any more dreams, and he woke with a smile. Daylight was squeezing itself through a narrow slit in the wall, allowing Hawkeye his first full view of the room.

Just like he'd been expecting, it was clearly a room in someone's house. The government had a tendency to force regular civilians to provide accommodations for visiting soldiers or government officials. Two years ago, the Pierces had been chosen to house the representative from the government during his stay in Archmouth during the elections. Even though it had only been for a night, it had felt like an entire lifetime to Hawkeye. The man's ego had been so inflated he was surprised he didn't float away. He'd spent the entire night making political talk and drinking all of the Pierces' wine. In Hawk's eyes, the latter had been the worst crime of all.

Now, it seemed as if the residents of this home had been chosen to accommodate him and Margaret. He felt a twinge of sympathy for them. He at least hoped that they were receiving some sort of compensation, as his father had when the representative had bunked with them.

The room itself was nice. It was filled with various country items and memorabilia. A horseshoe hung on one wall, surrounded by cowboy pictures. Cow pattern wallpaper had been used on the walls, and a dust-covered saddle sat atop a wooden trunk. Curtains with horse and cow imprints hung on the sole window, which itself was boarded up from both sides with heavy metal bars. If Hawkeye had to guess, the government had done that, along with putting a slit in the wall so as to allow some light through. Clearly they were paranoid about anyone being able to get in or out.

Margaret had moved from the chair to the bed, which was made up with another cow print- this one on a quilt. How the resident family managed to afford such things was beyond Hawkeye. Most people in Archmouth were lucky if they could even afford a proper bed, much less fancy quilts and wallpaper.

As he watched her, he noted the innocent look of her as she lay stretched upon the bed. When she slept, all of the rigidity and seriousness about her seemed to fade. She almost looked human.

Almost.

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A loud bang on the door startled Margaret awake. She sat up with a gasp, taking a moment to remember where she was. Hawkeye was on his feet, looking alarmed. He backed away from the door as it opened. She saw the muscles in his shoulders tense as a soldier stepped in.

If the soldier was surprised to see Hawkeye awake and standing, he didn't show it. He practically threw the metal tray on the floor before stepping back into the doorway. With one hand on the knob, he said,

"Eat up. We're coming for you in an hour."

He slammed the door.

"Isn't he a ray of sunshine," Hawkeye commented, bending over to pick up the tray. "Well, what've we got here?" He sifted through the contents of the tray. "An apple, a pack of cheese crackers, a carton of milk, and a slice of bread." He let out an exaggerated groan, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Oh my God, so much food! I don't know if I can eat it all. Margaret, perhaps you would be so kind as to help me out of this predicament?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. _Back to his usual self, I see._ "Just shut up and give me the tray, Pierce."

He hugged the sheet of metal close to his body. "But I like this tray."

"Pierce."

He took an apple and threw it at her. A little squeak escaped her lips, but she managed to catch it. Angry now, she glared at him. "Was that necessary?"

"I've heard that food is the only way to cure hunger, so I'd say yes."

She took a bite from it, channeling her irritation into every movement. "Do you have to quip about everything?"

"A quip a day keeps the psychiatrist away."

She groaned. "I swear, Dr. Pierce, it's hopeless."

He sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. He ripped off a chunk of wheat bread and ate it. "You're right. Getting you to take a joke _is_ a lost cause."

"Smartass," she muttered.

He beamed. "Why Margaret, what a kind thing to say! You know, I really think we're warming up to each other."

"Yeah, and pigs can fly."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. She and Hawkeye split the pack of crackers, while he let her have the milk. After that, he wiped the center of the tray with his shirt until it was spotless. He then gazed at his reflection, occasionally pushing his hair a certain way. His brow was furrowed, as if the task at hand was something of mind-bending proportions.

"What are you doing now?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"Straightening up. A Pierce must always look his best." He looked at her, flinging his hair to one side with a jerk of his head. "After all, I want to represent our Quarter _appropriately_."

"Wouldn't it be easier to use a mirror?"

"My dear," he said very matter-of-factly, "this is over here, and that is over there. Why would I waste precious energy to walk over there when I can just stay here? Besides, this tray makes me look younger."

She rolled her eyes. "Just give it up."

"And look like I come from the boonies? Margaret, we're supposed to hide the fact that we come from the bowels of the 2nd Quarter."

"Yes, and you're doing a fine job of it," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She glared pointedly at his hair, which was even messier than it had been before.

"Thank you! I'm glad to know you appreciate my efforts." He flashed her a grin before returning to his makeover.

Done trying to get him to stop acting like a mischievous ten year old, Margaret stood up and walked over to the dresser. Looking at herself, she could definitely see the effects of spending three days locked in a room with Hawkeye Pierce on her face. His vexatious jokes and spontaneous sleep talking had paled her face and put bags under her eyes. Every time she tried to close her eyes at night, a certain doctor would come along and mumble something to wake her up.

She picked up the comb that was on the dresser and ran it through her hair. Almost instantly, the teeth caught on a snarl. Grunting, she tugged at it, wincing as she tore at the strands. The stalwart knot finally broke apart, sending her hand flying through the rest of her hair. She gasped in surprise as it did so, having expected the snarl to put up more of a fight than that. But alas, she carried on, fortunately finding no other barriers to stand in the way of her beauty.

Her gaze flicked to the door as another loud knock came forth.

"Jesus," Hawkeye muttered. "They keep that up and they're gonna break that damn thing."

She shrugged as the door swung open again. She was expecting a soldier, but instead found something completely different.

"Dad!" Hawkeye cried. The surgeon rushed forward, wrapping the first man to enter the room in a strong, loving hug. Anyone could have looked at the two and seen the strength of their relationship.

The second man was of more interest to Margaret than the first. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, with a military cut and bright brown eyes. He was dressed in a cleanly-cut white uniform, his cap tucked under his arm. His eyes lit up when he saw Margaret; a wide smile stretching across his face.

"Donald!" Margaret let out a high-pitched shriek as she took in Donald Penobscott in the full. Rushing forward, she hugged him, jumping up to make up for their height difference. She pressed her lips against his in an eager kiss, to which he promptly responded.

Hawkeye pulled away from his father. "I can't believe you're here, Dad. How did you get through the soldiers?"

He smiled. "They're allowing one person to visit each of the two candidates. BJ wanted to come, but he let me go in his place."

Disappointment flashed briefly in Hawkeye's eyes. "Oh. I would have liked to see him again, too." His eyes suddenly lit up again. "But I'm glad you're here, Dad. I thought I was never going to see you again."

"Now that's just nonsense, Hawkeye. I know you. The Benjamin Franklin Pierce I call my son would never let some government keep him away from his father. He's too stubborn and resilient."

He grinned. "Stop it, dad. I'm blushing."

"I'm serious," he insisted. "I know that you'll be fine, even though the road ahead will be hard. They'll test you, and test you again. But you're going to make it, Hawkeye. I know you will. Someday, I'll see you on T.V., looking mighty and proud. You're going to change the world, I just know it."

Tears began poking at his eyes. "Dad, I-"

"Shh," he interrupted. "I wasn't finished yet. I don't want you to worry about me, Hawkeye. I'm going to be just fine. Your old pop's still able to take care of himself, even if his bones creak and crack every once in a while."

The junior Pierce sighed, looking away for a few moments. When his gaze returned, he saw that his father was beginning to cry. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. "Just promise me one thing, Dad."

"Anything."

His teeth shifted against the rough skin of his inner cheek as he contemplated what he was about to say. Should he say it? What would he think? Would he be mad? Glad? Afraid?

"I want you to promise me that you'll take care of Peg and the kids if something happens to BJ."

For the first time in years, Daniel Pierce looked genuinely confused. "I'm not sure I understand."

"The elections are going to happen again next year. If BJ gets chosen, I want you to promise me that you'll take care of Peg and the kids. He'd never ask you himself. He's too proud."

The elder Pierce studied his son for a few moments. He recalled the previous night's events, and his son's genuine concern for his friend. There was no doubt that BJ Hunnicutt was a family man; to take him away from his family was to take a farmer away from his crops. The very least Daniel could do in his absence was take care of his family.

"Alright, Hawkeye," he said quietly. "I promise."

The grin his son gave him was worth more than a million Credits to him. Hawkeye awarded him one last, quick hug. "Thank you, Dad. I'll sleep better knowing that you're there."

He nodded. "Take care of yourself and Margaret, Hawkeye." He sent a wink his way. "And don't forget to call me when the first grand baby rolls in. I want to be the first in line to meet him or her."

This time, Hawkeye legitimately blushed. "Dad!" he hissed. "Stop it! She's right there, and so is her fiancee!"

" _Ex_ -fiancee," he corrected. " _You're_ her fiancee now."

"Don't remind me."

He laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Easy now, son. She can't be that bad. I'm sure as you spend more time with each other, you'll grow to appreciate each other more."

The candidate laughed icily. "Yeah, and I'm a frog." He shot a look Margaret's way, only to see that she was still locking lips with her ex. "Hey, you two. Save the PDAs for somewhere more private, please."

The two broke apart, with Margaret shooting an annoyed glare Pierce's way. "Please, doctor. I'm trying to have a nice final moment with the man I love. _Don't_ spoil it."

He pointed at himself. "Yeah? Well, according to the government, _I'm_ the one you're supposed to love now. So _maybe_ you should be kissing _me_ instead."

Donald stiffened.

Margaret laid a hand on her former husband-to-be's chest. "Donald, dear, let it be. He's just being his usual cocky self."

The military man's hands balled into fists. "This is the man you're charged to marry?"

"Yes, Donald, but-"

The soldier stalked forward until he was face-to-face with Hawkeye. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him up to his tiptoes. Looking straight into his eyes, he said,

"You'd better be good to her, Pierce. If I catch word that you've done anything - _anything_ \- to hurt her, I'll smack you so hard you'll fly to the moon." He shook his other fist in the man's face, just to emphasize his point.

Hawkeye swallowed hard. Up close, Donald Penobscott was a lot more intimidating than one might think. "Yes, sir," he said without a hint of mockery.

"Donald, put him down," Margaret scolded. "You're supposed to be a soldier. Act like one, for Christ's sake, and put him down!"

It took him a moment, but finally the bigger man put the smaller one down. He stood breathing down his neck for a few moments before backing away. Turning to Margaret, he said, "You'd better not fall too hard in love with him, Margaret. He's a sneaky one."

She sighed. "Don't you think I already know that? I went to high school with him, Donald. I know exactly what he's like."

He sniffed. "I'm just being careful. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I can take care of myself, Donald. Now shoo. I don't want any more confrontation."

The soldier's muscles were tense. For a few minutes, Daniel wasn't sure if he was going to leave or not. Finally, he submitted. "Goodbye, Margaret. I hope you know how much I love you." He gave her one final kiss before exiting the room.

"Phah!" Hawkeye spat. "What an asshole."

Margaret spun on her heel to face him. She stalked up to him and gave him a hard shove. He yipped as he fell back onto the bed. Daniel scooted out of the way as Margaret charged past, sticking a finger in his son's face.

"Donald's right. You'd better watch yourself, Pierce. I don't have any intent of getting warm and cozy with the likes of you any time soon, so don't count on it!" She gave him one last push before stalking back to her previous position, her back to the two men. Hawkeye exchanged a confused look with his father, who shrugged.

Deciding to be the peacemaker, Daniel Pierce walked over to his future daughter-in-law. Standing at her shoulder, he spoke softly. "Margaret? I'm Daniel Pierce. Hawkeye's father."

She grunted, giving him the smallest of smiles.

He pursed his lips. "Listen. I know that my son can be cocky, devious, and downright irritating. I've seen every side of him. His angry side. His funny side, his scared side." A pause, then, "His caring side."

Margaret looked at him. "I don't mean to imply that he's heartless, Daniel, but he's just not what I'm looking for in a husband. I wanted Donald, and that was taken away from me."

"You can't punish Hawkeye for that. I know that you love Donald, but my son isn't a terrible person. Neither are you. I have faith that the two of you can work things out."

She didn't say anything.

At that moment, a soldier appeared in the doorway. His voice was gruff as he said, "It's time to go. The allotted visiting time is up."

His announcement made Daniel's eyes grow watery once more. _The time for final goodbyes._ Leaning forward, he whispered, "Think it over, Margaret. He isn't a bad guy. You could use someone in your life like him."

She tensed. He didn't allow her the chance to respond, instead going over to Hawkeye.

He helped his son to his feet and pulled him into a hug. "Stay strong, Hawkeye," he murmured. "Call me often, and never be afraid to say that you are the son of Daniel Pierce. I know you will be great. Just watch yourself, and be strong. You can overcome any challenge they throw at you. Keep your wits about you, and don't ever forget that you're not alone." Even though the young man couldn't see him, he let his gaze slide toward Margaret. "I love you, Benjamin."

"I love you too, Dad." Hawkeye's voice was thick with tears.

The soldier cleared his throat. "Sir."

Daniel pulled away from his son. "Yes, of course. I'm coming." He took one last, long look at his son before turning away. He hoped that Hawkeye hadn't seen the tears that were staining his face. The last thing he needed was to go away worrying about his father's sorrow.

But of course, he had.

As Daniel left with the soldier, Benjamin Franklin Pierce let the tears fall. He shoved a fist in his mouth so as not to alert Margaret. She still had her back to him, and the last thing he wanted was for her to see him crying. He was supposed to be her guardian. He had assured Donald that he would never hurt her. Part of keeping that promise meant never letting her see his weakness.

By the time the soldier returned, he had managed to pull himself together. The soldier informed them that they would be escorted by helicopter to Khuizherton City, where they would be married prior to being escorted to their new quarters in the Black District.

Both Hawkeye and Margaret took deep breaths. This was it. Their new lives were about to begin.

"Join hands," the soldier ordered. "You're supposed to be a couple. Act like it."

Hawkeye opened his mouth to make a stinging remark, but Margaret silenced him with a glare. He set his jaw, frustrated. Here he was, already letting this woman control his actions. Even though he knew she was right to stop him, he didn't like it. Looking the soldier straight in the eye, he took Margaret's hand.

He could've sworn that a smirk worked its way under the soldier's mask. "Much better. Now, follow me, and stick close. The chopper's waiting." Formally, the man spun on his heel and started to walk away.

As the new couple followed him, Hawkeye could have sworn that he felt her hand squeeze, just a little.

* * *

 **And that's it! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. So sorry for the huge wait, but I got busy with life. Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter out a bit more quickly next time. Until then,**

 **\- xLight360x**

 **(And Happy New Year's, too!)**


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